"It's alright," Darren assured her, low and firm, though Miles could see his brows knit in worry. "Just breathe, let Miles hold you. Someone, please get her some water?"
Miles felt dizzy with the rush of adrenaline, panic rising. But he had to push it down. Her well-being needed to take priority. He shifted his grip on her body as Darren lowered her firstleg, grabbing her harness for leverage and immediately second-guessing himself. Had the rope really broken? Had he broken it somehow?
"I'm so sorry," Mal gasped again, expression fraught as she looked up at him. "I shouldn't have - it's not your fault, Miles - "
"Don't worry, don't think about that," he found himself reassuring automatically, despite his panicked mind still moving a hundred miles an hour. "Just breathe, honey. It's not your fault either. Here, take a sip, okay? Let Javier help you."
As her lover helped her drink from the bottle he'd brought, Darren freed her from the rig quickly. He helped Miles lower her down to the platform. One of her other devotees grabbed a large cushion off the couch nearby and dropped down to support her, encouraging Miles to let go. For a brief flash of panic, his arms tightened around her unbidden - he couldn't let her fall - but reason won out.
"We're okay," Darren repeated again, low and unquestionably certain. He handed Miles one of the pairs of paramedics' shears, lowering his voice. "Just cut the harness. Shouldn't use this rope again anyway."
Miles nodded, taking hold of the bottom, doubled length of rope that made up thetakate kotehe'd tied so carefully. Mal was shaking; no, he was shaking. He grabbed the blades of the shears with his other hand to steady them as he snipped down through one length, then the other. Another snip at the top of the diamond made the harness go slack enough that he could quickly pull the remnants away and free her arms from the box tie.
"Please bring us some orange juice," Darren said to one of the suddenly too many people nearby. "A whole pitcher and three glasses." He took the shears from Miles, then pulled both his hands together to steady him while he turned his attention to Mal. "Show me your hands. Can you lift them? You landed hard in that tie."
Mal nodded. She drew a deep, shuddering breath as she raised both hands, flexing her wrists and fingers without any sign of immediate nerve damage. "I'm okay. God, I'm so sorry. It was rated for three hundred pounds - "
Miles shook his head immediately. "No. I let the rope break - "
"Neither of you did anything wrong." The tone of Darren's voice was absolute. "When rope breaks, it breaks. And the ropes were new. This was clearly a freak accident; neither of you was at fault. And even if you were, we're okay. Drink some orange juice." He pushed the first solo cup someone held out into Miles's hands, then Mal's, before downing one himself in one go.
Miles had to concentrate to keep his hand from shaking enough to lift the cup. Darren placed a hand over his. "Steady, darling. You're alright. Just crashing. Just breathe. And drink. Dom drop's hitting hard. Give us some space, please, friends. Let our hostess catch her breath."
Of course. The logic of his words took his panic down a notch, despite Miles wanting to argue that surely this went far beyond dom drop. But arguing wouldn't help. The only thing that would help was aftercare.
Darren wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close over her. He found one of Mal's hands with his free one, drawing it to Miles so they clasped it between their joined hands.Miles nestled his face into his husband's neck, focusing on counting his breath, actively slowing it. Darren's fingers rubbed the back of his neck reassuringly, and Miles tried to pass on the touch, rubbing Mal's thumb with his own. The room grew quiet around them.
"You should all have a bite, and more orange juice." May appeared with a plate of finger sandwiches. "People are gradually clearing out, Mal."
Their hostess gave a pained sigh. "Already? God, that sucks. I'm going to have so many leftovers...."
"There are a few cuddle puddles we can foist doggy bags onto," May assured her, winking at Miles. "Mal, did you order the jute from Klara's?"
"Yeah? Why, is there a problem?"
"Ravinder found a few recent reports of upline breaks on the forums, and far less gentle landings. Nothing's been confirmed yet. But we should probably spread the word to be extra careful with it, Dare. Do you two want to take off? I can stay and make sure Mal's crew has everything under control."
"I'd appreciate it." Darren's voice was unexpectedly weary. He let go of Mal's hand to rub her shoulder. "Are you going to be okay with that? We can stay."
She shook her head. "Go home and rest, it's been a really long day."
Relieved, Miles squeezed her hand, going to stand. Hers clamped down on his before he could, though. "We'll try this again, right?" she asked, voice suddenly tight with worry. "Please, Miles? Promise me? We're getting back on the horse?"
Miles forced himself to nod. "Yeah. We - we'll figure something out. Don't worry."
"Thank you," Mal sighed. She squeezed his hand again, leaving Miles hoping he hadn't just told his friend a straight-up lie.
? ? ?
∞ 14 ∞
Regrouping
There were a few people changing in the little den off Mal's lobby, all of whom expressed heartfelt but brief sympathies before hurrying out. Miles was glad for a moment of privacy. He sagged into Darren as his husband leaned back heavily on the wall, pulling him with him. "How's your eye? Did it get you?"
"My eye?" Suddenly, the stinging welt along the side of his face was all he could feel. He raised his head, wincing as he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the wall. "Holy shit."
"Yeah. Surprised it didn't draw blood. Guess that's the one upside of shitty fucking rope. Less force." Darren's words held a sudden vitriol, and a tremor ran through him. "Fuck, Miles, I'm sorry."
